At Peace/In Pain

“I leave behind with you—peace; I give you my own peace and my gift is nothing like the peace of this world. You must not be distressed and you must not be daunted.” John 14:27

I had a very bad day yesterday. The pain level was a bit higher than normal and I can often power through a day like that. But depression hit very hard as well. I was in tears at some time throughout most of the day. Add to that the anxiety of teaching Romans 1 in our midweek Bible study. (Read the chapter and you’ll understand my apprehensions. It is probably one of the most misused of all Scripture to attack our homosexuality in particular, and all sin in general. As we neared the end of the chapter I told our group, “Please keep reading, because Paul kept writing.”)

At any rate, the day was a real struggle. With the continued pain hindering my ability to put in a “full day’s work” and depression stealing the rest of my energy, I was a puddle of jigsaw pieces yesterday. Fortunately I have Ativan (or lorazepam), an anti-anxiety medication that helps to slow down the racing thoughts, heart rate and respiration. There are two problems though: one does only last a limited amount of hours, and it can be habit forming. Yesterday I took a tab and napped for an hour in the afternoon. By evening, I was back in my hole of despair.

So, in my Bible reading this morning, Jesus tells His disciples He is giving them a gift. I like gifts. It reminds me of the classic scene from Pretty Woman when Richard Gere presents Julia Roberts with a necklace. He opens the box, exhibiting the necklace to her. Roberts eyes get wide, and just as she reaches for the necklace, he snaps the lid shut, almost catching her fingers in the lid. Her famous giggle is classic. I am told that moment was unscripted, and that Gere improvised shutting the lid. She gets to keep the necklace of course.

Jesus’ gift to His disciples is peace. He say, “I give you my own peace.” I have read the gospels more than 40 times and Jesus’ unhurried pace still amazes me. His friend Lazarus dies, and he waits around another day. A man Jairus grabs Jesus by the sleeve, imploring Him to come heal his daughter. They must hurry, for she is in another town. Yet, Jesus takes time to heal another woman on the way. Not only does He heal her, but He stops to have a conversation with her.

After she departs, Jesus starts up the road again toward the Jairus’ house, only to be met by servants who tell them that his daughter has died. Jesus brushes them off and says, “Don’t be afraid; just believe.” They approach the house, everyone is grieving loudly, and Jesus says, “She is just asleep.” He walks in the house, goes to her room and simply tells her to get up, which she does.

No hurry. If I had been Jairus, I would have said, “Come on, Jesus, you can go back and heal that woman. My daughter is almost dead! Let’s get a move on here.” I was crying out something similar yesterday (and many days since I’ve had headache pain 24/7). “Jesus, come one! Do something, now! What is taking you so long? It has been six year. Six years, Jesus. You still remember me, right? I’m the guy out here in the Northwest who has made lots of mistakes, but tried to serve You well.” Really, why does Jesus drag His feet at times like this?

I might even be able to accept that constant pain and limited ability to work if I could see a purpose in the suffering. I am no martyr, don’t get me wrong. I want to be healed a thousand times more than my friends who are praying for my healing. But, if my pain is bringing Him glory somehow, at least there is meaning.

So far; no healing, no meaning (that I can discern, at least). Oh, yes, I’ve learned some lessons about having empathy for those with chronic pain. But, I got those lessons finished at about year four. Passed the course; so why I am still being schooled?

But, with all my questions, fears and anxiety, Jesus offers me the gift I most need I suppose. If healing is not in the cards currently, peace is a gift I treasure. My problem is peace seems the entirely wrong way to respond to my situation. I am a pastor with a full-time job caring for a congregation. I am not able to do that well, and am finding it more difficult as time goes on.

Financially, I cannot retire. Hardly anyone wins a disability case with my particular diagnosis. Plus, there are a dozen other reasons why it would be entirely inappropriate to leave the place we currently live. God has me in a corner with hardly any options at all.

But, He promised His peace. Perhaps that is the key. He’s not requiring me to get through this using “my” peace; that ran out a long time ago. Yes, I can bring to mind so many times that looked hopeless and God saw us through. But, we have never endured anything like this. If I am to continue, it will not be because of my own peace. I need something supernatural; the peace of God Himself.

Jesus made it clear that His peace is an entirely different sort than the world’s peace. I think the most important observations are that His peace is unaffected by circumstances, and it is eternal. My peace can be gone in a flash if I get a phone call from the wrong person or a driver cuts me off on the highway. And, I may wake to a peaceful attitude, and have become a grump by mid-afternoon, especially if I am having a particularly trying day, painwise.

There remains a promise, dear ones, of Jesus’ own peace. He knows what things destroy our inner stability and health, so He cautions us, “do not be distressed, you must not be daunted.” I am ready, then, for a dose of the supernatural peace Jesus offers. And, if I cry, may it become more often because of the pain, and less often because I fear the future because of the pain.